Call of Duty: Achilles Heel
by Innocent Fox
Summary: A mild mannered pencil pusher is thrust into the world of an undercover military campaign. Sent by MI6, Rhys Harrison goes to Greece to put a stop to a new terrorist threat, and a potential uprising. Rated T for strong language and violence. R&R please.
1. Prelude

Call of Duty: Achilles Heel

_Prelude_

"Harrison."

The tension broke the uncomfortable silence of the stuffy office.

"Visitor," said the secretary.

Harrison arose from his rickety desk as he shook the hand of the visitor firmly. The visitor had glasses; they were speckled from the dust that came through the cracks in the roof.

"Rhys, it's good to finally meet you," spoke the visitor, "Your country needs a man like yourself for an overseas job."

Rhys suddenly startled at the proposition and cowered at the thought of working alongside trained killers. Why would his country need him? He worked for the Ministry of Defence, not the armed forces. Rhys worked for the government in aid of the armed forces but not for aiding them in fighting, that was preposterous.

"Wh…why would you want a man like myself overseas? I'm just a pencil pusher, working for the government. Is…" Rhys whispered fanatically.

Rhys was cut off by the man.

"Keep your voice down. Look, you have the balls and the brains to carry out a mission, you and I both know that."

Rhys frowned, his eyes cast aside the man and he looked straight through him, staring at his own reflection in a nearby window.

"Your experience may come in handy, we can train you. And judging by your target training, you're not half the marksman too."

He knew that he could shoot; he had the accuracy and the keen eye for detail and observation. The basic training given to him by the MoD for dealing with a potential siege on the building was commended by officers far experienced in the field of firearms.

"What am I to do?" Rhys' breathing got heavier with every syllable.

The visitor arched an eyebrow and wondered why the hell MI6 wanted a man like him. He looked suspiciously at Rhys' eyes and could sense a fear in him, as if he was too afraid to answer a question, like a frightened school boy.

"Look…my name's Barlow, I work for the SIS."

Rhys' breathing got more excited.

"As in the Secret Intelligence Service?"

"Yes," replied the bespectacled man.

"Count me in; a chance to work for MI6…it's my dream job."

"Isn't it everybody's?"

Rhys thought back to James Bond and the glamour, luxury, danger, women and cars. The financial comfort would be too much to bear.

"Rhys, you do realise you'll be working as an undercover agent? It's not James Bond…people immediately denote it as that when they think of MI6 and boy are they disappointed."

The young mans eyes opened like a puppy dogs. His almost child like façade was seen as naïve by Barlow.

"But…I wanted luxury…"

"Oh you'll get plenty of luxury, you're undercover. All the supplies will be given to you quick haste, in the mean time analyse this file."

Barlow plugged a USB flashdrive into Rhys' PC. The drive flickered to life as if it had been awoken for the first time. As the file appeared on screen, detailing his mission.

He read each bullet point carefully re-read them to himself.

_Undercover operative…_

_Technologically advanced equipment…_

_World travel…_

These details seemed more like an explanation of somebody else's life not his own. He scrolled down the page and then caught sight if his objective.

_Greek riots._

"Greece?" Rhys seemed to protest. "I went there on holiday last year."

"So? It's a nice place. Or was…you have seen the news over the past couple of weeks haven't you?"

Of course he had, the Greek riots were becoming a more and more deadly uprising than ever. A political coup in the home of democracy? The thought of a collapsing democracy from the very root of the whole ideology broke Rhys' heart. His political views were of peace and a fair government that wanted the best interests for its people. Not this.

Rhys' mouth began to quiver as Barlow eyed him.

"Greece…the thought of it going to hell is beyond what I ever believed possible."

He never understood the sudden youthful uprising against the government, Molotov cocktails and forest fires filled his mind. It was only in 2008 that such governmental opposition was shown, but it had seemed to have died down.

"We're after this man." Barlow pointed on the monitor to a picture of a dark haired man with good looks. "Baltazar Nikolopolous."

Rhys recognised the man. He was steadily rising in the ranks on Interpol's most wanted list. Recently broken out of prison, he attempted an assassination on the Greek Prime Minister and his superior, the president of Greece. He was still most wanted on the Greek government's lists, and his attack on the British Embassy in Athens made it personal amongst the higher ranks in the British Army. Nikolopolous had taken just five of his personal militia and killed thirty two British Embassy soldiers and murdered the Ambassador. It was a national outrage, how could such a small militia have gained entry without been spotted and how could they do it with limited weaponry? The Greek government had issued a statement apologising for the assault, claiming that the majority liked the presence of British troops in that area and made them feel safe. They had taken a small amount of munitions from the embassy and made there way, escaping into the countryside, it made Rhys' blood boil. How could a terrorist get away with killing so many and escape so quickly? So many questions were to be answered.

Rhys stood up from the pine desk and removed his necktie.

"When can I start?"

Barlow grinned and replied,

"Right away."


	2. Touchdown

_Touchdown_

Rhys walked through the Grecian airport and inhaled deeply, taking in the sea air. The blue sky was coupled with the turquoise waves that greeted him.

_I'm back…_he thought to himself, admiring the coastline that washed away the old sand, like old memories.

The yellow sun glared off the taxi that had arrived for Rhys, the driver, middle aged with olive skin, wrinkled from too much sun but enough luxury. His shirt bearing resemblance to Hawaiian shirts that were so popular here, the driver's hair was slicked back with grease, greying but complimenting his good looks.

"Hello there Mr…Harrison, correct?" spoke the driver.

"Hi, yes that's correct, are you taking me to my hotel this fine day?"

"Yes sir, I must say…" the driver leaned forward and whispered, "it is with great pleasure I assist you."

The driver reverted back to his standing position, stooping slightly.

As Rhys opened the passenger seat, the driver grabbed his luggage and put it into the back of the car, slamming down the boot and walking around to his side. The sun was still glaring off the bonnet, shining into the eyes of Rhys, as he shielded them, the driver pulled off slowly, twisting himself until he could see a clearing and get on to the main road.

Rushing down the open countryside was a thrill, he was going seventy on a sixty miles an hour road, this driver was crazy, but good. Rhys glanced at the taxi I.D stuck on to the air vents crudely with sticky tack, like it had just fallen off repeatedly until the driver had got too lazy to put it on properly. Memorials littered the road, a constant reminder of the mission that was to be done. Rhys could see flowers brushing pictures of young men and women, young men and women that had died for nothing.

"You know friend, they put those up for everyone to show respect, so that everybody can help mourn for a lost life."

Rhys sighted, "It's tragic alright…" he trailed off. "I didn't get your name, did I?"

The driver laughed as he sped into the hotel parking facilities.

"Not much need for names here friend. I can tell you that I am here to help."

The man got out of the car, slamming the door quickly but in good nature, taking the boot up and taking Rhys' luggage out. Rhys stepped out of the vehicle and picked up the suitcases, watching as this portly man slicked his hair back with a dark green comb and driving away to the crackle of a taxi radio.

_One hour later._

Rhys sat down on the comfy bed, bouncing slightly as he hit the crisp, white sheets. He then lay back before heading on to his balcony of the five star hotel room.

As he drifted off to sleep on the sun bed, he was awoken by a soft vibration in his shorts pocket, followed by a high pitched ring tone. He slid the mobile phone out of his pocket and listened to the sound of the bespectacled man he had met one week previously.

"_Harrison, we need you to go to a nearby petrol station and ask the clerk for a brown envelope, he's one of us, don't worry, you'll get what you need."_

Rhys didn't have a chance to put the phone down before the phone had been disconnected. He opened his briefcase, taking out a knife and placing his M9 Beretta handgun in a holster under his suit jacket. The leather holster clung closely to his waist and he left the hotel, hailing a taxi before asking where the nearest petrol station was.

Two miles from the hotel as Rhys walked in the automatic door, hearing an electronic beep as if to acknowledge his presence. As he walked up to the counter, he spotted a camera in the corner of his eyes, watching his every move.

A young man behind the counter greeted him.

"Hello sir, what can I help you with?"

"I have a brown envelope to pick up."

"Can I see some identification please sir…?"

Rhys pulled out his wallet before a loud bang shattered the glass to his left, overlooking the pumps. A SPAS shotgun had blown the glass into crystal shards and spread them throughout the store floor.

"Everybody get on the floor!" A masked man shouted as loud as he could, frightening the other customers. Two other men started firing Uzi submachine guns, killing an elderly woman and her husband.

Rhys dived for cover and pulled out his pistol, hearing cries of rebellion, these men were not playing with anyone.

The clerk stood his ground pulling a sawn off from under his desk and shooting at the ground below them.

"Get out of my store, NOW!" cried this once unassuming man.

The accompanying men flinched before firing on him, hitting his chest and head as he fell backwards, breaking his neck on a freezer behind him. Blood had been sprayed on to the cigarettes and whiskey cabinets around him, soaking his counter and his cash register.

The shotgun wielding man told the other men to search the store, Rhys heard a spray of gunshots as one of the rebels killed a teenager, his hand rolling a can of Pepsi towards him, cold lifeless eyes piercing his soul. That one rebel walked over to where Rhys was hiding, not knowing what hid behind the shelf.

Rhys got on one knee, surprising the rebel and took him down in two shots, hitting his jaw and forehead. The rebel hit the floor and Rhys picked up the Uzi he had been carrying, diving through the air spitting nine rounds at the other henchman, hitting his in his abdomen and his arms. The magazine of the Uzi was empty now, useless.

SPAS fire burst a book rack, ripping pages to shreds with the leaders cry of "Come out you callous prick!" The irony of those words rattled Rhys. "We're doing this for a good cause! Come out! Stop hiding like a rat!"

Rhys crawled around the shelves, searching for an opportunity to take out this terrorist before finding his foot and aiming down his sights, hitting the rebels ankle and as he lay injured walked over and faced his barrel to the mans head, the shot seemed to echo in Rhys' mind as he walked out of the petrol station, picking up the envelope as he went. He walked past the pumps and got in the Jeep they had driven in, the keys had been left in and he drove a few hundred yards down the isolated road before getting signal on his phone.

_One bar_

_No signal_

_Two bars_

_One bar_

_Four bars_

He phoned Barlow back and explained about the shooting before asking, "Why attack a near-empty petrol station?"

"_They were probably going for soft targets to show the government they mean what they say. Taking a petrol station out-_"

Rhys interrupted, "They didn't take it out."

As soon as those words came out of his mouth, three pounds of Semtex exploded in a rigged laptop the leader had been carrying, the bomb was timed to blow in time with the computers internal clock, giving limited time to do the assault in.

Orange erupted into the sky; the explosion was filled with smoke, with the petrol station collapsing into a pile of rubble on the ground.

"_Rhys…get back to the hotel. I'll meet you_."


End file.
